Your Hideaway
by sulwynbennettkennedy
Summary: The Great King of all Mirkwood realizes his dreadful temper may have overreached its boundaries when the beautiful Sulwyn fearfully flees from his throne room. ThranduilxOC oneshot OOC Thranduil


"You're being ridiculous,"

If Thranduil is surprised by your sudden appearance, his face does not show it. Instead he languidly walks around you back to his carved throne, leaving you to watch the dwarf- Thorin, yes that was his name- being taken away by elves. Even from the distance you can hear him grumbling in what must be khazdul because you can only pick out a few key phrases of what he says. As an elf, one of noble birth, it is required that you learn a plethora of languages. Dwarves had always been a secretive race, so the language wall almost entirely incomprehensible to the rest of Middle Earth.

Sighing, you turn around to see Thranduil gazing at you much like he always does. An eye brow quirked, a hint of mischief in his eyes and the slight curve to his lips.

"Tell me how I am this way? I gave that dwarf an offer and he unwisely refused," he said calmly as you found your feet moving you closer to him.

"They were found by the guard starving and delirious. I highly doubt they could do any harm,"

"Trespassing is still trespassing and a crime in my realm. Should I be unfair and exempt these creatures from their punishment,"

"What about the mountain? He is the heir is he not?" You ask curiously. You turn around, glancing at where the dwarf was led off to. "King under the Mountain," you muse "Do you think that is what they will call him?"

When Thranduil spoke from behind youm it took all of your willpower not to jump in surprise. Surely for as long as you had known the king you should recognize footfalls and… lack of personal space. He is almost pressed against your back and lowers his face to speak into your ear.

"No, my dear. He nor any other soul who wish to reclaim that mountain ever shall as long as the drake remains in its caverns,"

"But what of the gold? Surely you would benefit from an alliance that would bring treasure back into these halls," you ask turning around. He straightens immediately, but your bodies are still close together. You feel the heat radiating off of his chest and the beat of his heart. You resist the itching urge in your hand to touch him.

"It is not that simple-"

"Why, you could even send a few select of the guard to travel with them. Tauriel would volunteer, maybe even Legolas…" You continue and miss the look on Thranduil's face.

Your eyes are lighting up in excitement as you exclaim "Even I could go! Tauriel says that I have improved my archery! I am not as skilled as I should be for my age, but I am still proficient-"

"You will not be going into that mountain- No one is," he spoke through clenched teeth.

"But-"

"I will not speak more on this subject (Y/N)," Thranduil says drifting away with fluid steps and causing you to clamp your mouth shut grinding your teeth in frustration.

"I don't understand. We can defeat this dragon. Surely the treasure-"

"-Is not worth your death," Thranduil exploded "You are right. You do not understand. What a niave fool you are to believe that you can slay a dragon." With a few steps he has you pressed up against a wall. His hand grabs your chin and forces you to look at him.

Never- Never has he spoken to you this way, handled you in this manner.

"This is not a tale in a book (Y/N). Do you wish to know what a Dragon's fury looks like?!" He seethes and suddenly the right side of his face begins to shift. Raw streaks of reds appear and bleed into the rest of the side of his face. You blanche.

"Do you wish to feel the pain of the Drake's fire? The suffering?"

Gone is the flawless skin of Thranduil's face, replaced by grotesque ligaments and muscles. Both of his eyes stare you down, though now his right is milky and demented. Around his mouth any covering of skin or muscle is gone, leaving his mouth open in a forced grimace.

It seems an eternity that you stand pressed to him and the wall. Slowly his face spasms back to its original glory. The grip on your chin loosens and he sighs. Instead of removing his hand, his fingers trace your cheek delicately.

Breathe. You need to breathe.

You had known that he had gone to fight the drakes of the north long ago, but that had been when even by men's standards you were young. You had not known the casualties. The long buried injuries. Breathe now. You attempt to suck in air but something is wrong with your lungs.

It's not until he takes your hands in his that you realize they're trembling. You're shaking all over. How foolish you have been! Once again you have spoken without thinking and ignorantly. Too imagine the pain he had gone through- Oh why could you not learn to keep your mouth shut? Try as you might you could not get rid of the fear, you had felt looking into the hatred and pain that Thranduil's eyes had held. Even now it gripped you like an iron forged clasp. Breathe.

"(Y/N) forgive me I should not hav-"

You do not give him a chance to finish. Wriggling out of his grip you flee down a wooden walkway. You are not sure even where you are going, but anywhere besides the throne room- and Thranduil- is a blessed relief. If you had turned around, you might have seen the look of remorse and something more painful flicker over his face, before the cool mask slid on and he was king once again.


End file.
